Tag: teenage

The Accidental Keyhand, by Jen Swann Downey

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Literary rating: ★★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆

In terms of my reading plans for 2025, mentally laid out at the end of last month, this read was a totally unexpected curveball. The book (and author) wasn’t one I’d ever heard of, and not one I’d have bothered to pick up even on a free rack; but it was a surprise Christmas gift from a library colleague, delivered early this month when we returned from Christmas break, and one that touched me deeply. As a gift from one librarian to another, it actually has a lot to commend it, being very library-centered and with a message very supportive of books and the importance of the written word.

Written for younger readers (ages 10-14, according to the Goodreads description), this is the opening book of what’s so far a duology. Author Downey describes the premise and genesis of the series in an answer to a question by another Goodreader, which is worth quoting from at length:

“I think the seed for the series was planted when I saw the phrase “Petrarch’s Library” scrawled on a notebook I found in our never-very-organized, and always-very-clutterful house. Everyone in the family denied being the scrawler, but the phrase ignited my imagination, especially after I looked it up and found it associated with a collection of books that the 14th century humanist and poet, Petrarch, had carried around with him when he traveled on the back of a donkey. That made me laugh, because the phrase had suggested some sort of grand magnificent library. But then I thought, well, even a small collection of books IS a sort of imaginary grand magnificent place because each of the books is a doorway into a different world of ideas, and knowledge, and story.

Suddenly I was imagining “Petrarch’s Library” as a solid, if sprawling building, made out of library chambers from different times and places knitted together by magic into one incredible super-library.

Since I was a kid, I always had the feeling that librarians were masquerading at doing something mundane while actually doing something incredible, mysterious and magical. It seemed reasonable that the work of librarians who staffed the imaginary Petrarch’s Library would defend and protect the flow of information in shall we say, some additional warrior-ish direct action ways!”

(That quote also answers the question of whether this is fantasy or science fiction; that would depend on whether the author intended us to view the speculative elements as enabled by magic –which, as noted above, she did!– or by natural phenomena/technology unknown to present science.) 12-year-old protagonist Dorothea “Dorrie” Barnes is a library-loving kid growing up in Passaic, New Jersey (I suspect this might be Downey’s hometown, but can’t confirm that), in a chaotic household with her inventor father, college instructor mom, 14-year-old brother Marcus, and three-year-old sister Miranda. (The family shares the house with her great-aunt Alice, who’s an anthropologist.) Dorrie’s a pretty ordinary tween, albeit one with a sense of justice and a liking for the idea of sword-fighting against villains; she’s got a blunt practice sword and takes a library-sponsored fencing and stage combat class. But when the book opens on the day of the library’s annual Pen and Sword Festival (a sort of low-budget Renaissance Faire), a succession of freak events will very soon suck Dorrie and Marcus into a most un-ordinary experience….

With 358 pages of actual text, this is a rather thick book; but it has fairly large script, and is a quick-flowing page turner. Given that it’s intentionally written for kids, it’s safe to say (and no disgrace to the author!) that it would appeal more to that group than to adults; and while it’s among those children’s books that can please adults, it’s much more towards the younger-age end of that spectrum than some. Probably its biggest problem is conceptual murkiness, which makes suspension of disbelief challenging (more so for adults than for most 10-14 year-olds). The circumstances behind the rise of the Foundation and later of its Lybrariad adversaries aren’t really explained, and neither is the power behind the magic of Petrarch’s library and why its details work the way they do (partly because the Lybrarians themselves don’t know or understand this!). Because the author conceives of time as fluid, with past events subject to change which can re-write subsequent ones, time paradoxes are a factor, and that’s definitely not my favorite time-travel trope. Also, Downey’s perspective is secular humanist, though the book doesn’t stress this. The issue of language differences in certain settings isn’t always handled convincingly, IMO.

However, there are definite pluses here as well. On the whole, the plot is a serious one, with real suspense and tension in many places and a definite potential risk of death at times, and there are some serious life lessons imparted and significant moral choices made; but the author leavens this with a good deal of both situational and verbal humor, which works well here. She’s obviously well-read and knowledgeable about history, geography, natural history, etc., and she constructs her plot well for the most part (though there’s a significant logical hole in the part played by one magical artifact). Dorrie’s well-developed and likeable; most of the other characters who get any significant page-time are well-developed also, though not always likeable nor meant to be. (Marcus is, though you might sometimes want to swat him! :-) ) A nice touch is the incorporation of several real historical figures, such as Cyrano de Bergerac and Greek philosopher Hypatia, as members of the Lybrariad, though their portrayal isn’t always necessarily realistic. (I appreciated the short appendices which identify most of these people, and give additional information about other real persons, places, books, and other items mentioned in the tale.)

Since Dorrie is only 12 years old, she’s not a very formidable fighter in serious combat. But within the limits of her physical growth and of what training she’s had, she actually does display some action heroine chops, albeit not until quite a ways into the book.

All in all, this is not deep fiction, and I don’t plan to seek out the sequel. But it’s an enjoyable romp on its own terms, and I don’t regret reading it. (Note for animal-loving readers: the pet mongoose who plays an important role in the storyline is not harmed in any way!)

Author: Jen Swann Downey
Publisher: Sourcebooks, available through Amazon, both for Kindle and as a printed book.
A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.

Kill Craft

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★★
“More kill than craft.”

There is potential in the idea here. It’s a shame it ends up feeling like two separate movies, both of which come out feeling under-cooked. The main focus is on Marina Delon (Loutsis), a teenage girl with the typical teenage girl problems, e.g. bickering parents, generally sullen demeanour, etc. Except, her dad Thomas (Paré) is actually an assassin, working for the very strange Poe (Oberst). This has contributed to the marital strife, because his work is why mom is in a wheel-chair – and is not happy about it, to put it mildly. However, things are up-ended after Thomas is killed on a job, and Marina decides to take over the family business.

Thee are a few interesting directions this could perhaps have gone. Unfortunately, it doesn’t take any of them. Instead, things rumble vaguely on, with Marina doing not very exciting murders for hire, sometimes with the help of her Gother than thou BFF Freya (Eggleston), and to varying success. Such as trying to kill the estranged wife of a gangster, which only results in a bit of flirty chit-chat with the target’s son. Communication with Poe is entirely through dead-drops, so he has no idea his assassin is now a teen girl, until his boss informs him descriptions of the killer no longer resemble Michael Paré. Poe decides to tidy up the loose ends, by terminating what remains of the family.

Why it feels like two films, is mostly because the director can’t seem to commit to whether it should be Marina’s story or Poe’s. It could have been both, adopting a Leon-esque approach of Poe taking her under his wing. However, the two barely share a few seconds of screen-time before the final shootout. Instead, we get unconvincing family drama, e.g. Marina being upset her father isn’t attending the recital at which she is unconvincingly playing the violin, or even weirder stuff such as Poe digging up the grave of his dead mother. I’d actually have been fine with more of the latter – few do unrepentantly weird better than Oberst [he has done a one-man stage show adapting Edgar Allen Poe stories, incidentally, giving resonance to his character name here], and he’s much better an actor than Loutsis.

For whatever reason, I kept expecting some dramatic twist, such as Freya being a figment of Marina’s imagination. I mean, we first meet the pair digging animal graves behind her house, which sets an odd tone for the film from the beginning. The fact Marina and Poe both… have issues, is another way this could have developed. But once we’ve established Marina is taking over – and with remarkable vagueness on the details there – the film more or less grinds to a halt, dramatically and thematically. With action sequences which are no more than competent, despite some gore which is occasionally amusingly excessive, this is one you can afford to miss, despite Oberst’s best efforts.

Dir: Mark Savage
Star: Sanae Loutsis, Isis Eggleston, Michael Paré, Bill Oberst Jr.

Ride Hard: Live Free

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★★★
“Daughter of Anarchy.”

I was a little nervous on reading the IMDb trivia section: “Three motorcycle clubs participated as extras and offered technical advice.” If this sucked and I gave it a bad review, would I get a visit from a group of annoyed bikers, offering me ‘technical advice’ with a wrench? Turns out I needn’t have worried. While low-budget by Hollywood standards, it has some interesting ideas, and the execution is competent enough to pass muster. The events here take place after the collapse of the United States, when everywhere West of the Mississippi has basically been left to fend for itself. In this part of Nevada, that means two biker gangs, the Skoners and the Gypsies are fighting for control.

A particular wrinkle: all guns were seized by the authorities shortly before things collapsed, leaving them highly rare. But while being chased by the Skoners, 12-year-old Zyra (Rhodes), stumbles across a cache of weapons and ammo in a caravan. The bikers, under leader Tank (Russo), want the guns very much. Zyra proves quite capable of using her new-found force multipliers, leading to a stand-off between the young girl and the motorcycle club. Complicating matters: the Gypsies get word of the cache from a disgruntled Skoner, and prepare to make their own move against Zyra. It’s all unexpectedly interesting, and is a bit different from your typical post-apocalyptic shenanigans. In its thoroughly unconventional heroine, I was reminded a good deal of Molly. 

The performances certainly help, and are almost all effective. Beyond Rhodes and Rivera, there’s good support from Sons of Anarchy veteran Rivera as Gauge, the area’s overlord, and Chaz as an acerbic radio host, who could win third place in a Danny Trejo lookalike contest. I also want to mention R.A. Mihailoff, Vanessa Dorrei and Juan Espinosa as members of the Skoners. They all manage to create well-rounded characters with admirable efficiency. What is a little confusing, is the whole thing appears to be told in flashback by an older version of Zyra. This never quite gels, in part because the film doesn’t bother to circle back to the “present day” at the end, and consequently leaves the audience somewhat dangling in the breeze. 

I did wonder quite how Zyra came to be wandering the Nevada desert by herself, and how she had survived to that point. A little more development would have gone a long way: it leaves scope for a prequel, along the lines of Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga. There’s no doubt that the “technical advice” adds authenticity, and it’s a rather more nuanced depiction of bikers than you generally get – especially in the post-apocalyptic genre. Although it doesn’t soft-pedal the violence necessary, it’s typically toward a specific goal, and as a result feels more like a case of ‘tough times create hard men’. Or, in the case of Zyra, rather tough little girls as well. I wasn’t expecting much here, and was pleasantly surprised. 

Dir: Tony Mendoza 
Star: Lainee Rhodes, Derek Russo, Emilio Rivera, Jeff Chaz

Baby Assassins

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★★★½
“We kill people so we don’t have to get these annoying jobs.”

I’ve read complaints that the trailer mis-sells this, over-hyping the action components. Fortunately, I went in largely blind, so had no such preconceptions. I can see how it could be fair comment: while bookended by solid action, the middle is much more an oddball Japanese comedy. [If you’d told me this was directed by Sion Sono, I’d believe you] I still found it largely engaging, while occasionally hilarious and – sometimes simultaneously – utterly baffling. It’s about two teenage assassins, Chisato (Takaishi) and Mahiro (Izawa), who have been told by their handler they need to start fending for themselves. That means moving into an apartment, and finding work which doesn’t involve killing people.

As the line of dialogue above suggests, these are tasks for which both young women are singularly unsuited. Mahiro, in particular, is a self-confessed sociopath, who can barely keep up a normal conversation for five minutes, without wanting to shoot somebody. And it’s an urge that usually wins. We see this at the beginning, when a convenience store interview turns violent, and she has to fight her way out, past the manager and his (surprisingly loyal) employees. In the end, Chisato helps her get a job at the maid cafe where she works. I’d heard of those, but… yeah. Not sure if the depiction here is exaggerated for comedic purposes: it’s startlingly bizarre. Things ultimately go awry there when a Yakuza boss visits, and does not follow establishment etiquette, shall we say.

I was reminded of Violet and Daisy, in that this is as much about the relationship between the two young hired killers, as their actual killing. However, here the duo’s background is entirely opaque. How did they become hitwomen? Who is hiring them? Where are their parents? These are all questions that the film is utterly disinterested in answering. To be honest, the concept is a little shaky. Surely murder pays well enough that a part-time job in a 7-11 is not necessary? However, if you can roll with it, there’s a lot of amusement in getting a glimpse of what assassins do when not assassining, especially if you’ve ever lived in a similar arrangement. 

Izawa, a stuntwoman who doubled for Rina Sawayama in John Wick 4, handles most of the action. In addition to the early convenience store brawl, there’s also a final fight against the much larger Mimoto. It works, because Mahiro makes no attempt to out-power her opponent or go toe-to-toe with him, instead opting to use her advantages in speed and agility to gain an edge. I would like to have seen more of this, and some of the humour here is perhaps trying too hard to be “quirky”, complete with air quotes. But these are a pair of characters with which it’s fun to spend time, and certainly provides more amusement than I needed. I’ll be checking out the sequel, Baby Assassins 2 Babies, in short order. 

Dir: Yugo Sakamoto
Star: Akari Takaishi, Saori Izawa, Masanori Mimoto, Mone Akitani

Homestead

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★★★
“Home on the (gun-)range”

This one does take a while to reach the necessary threshold: probably only truly qualifies for the final twenty minutes or so, though it does talk a good game until that point. Also, it’s a decent enough combination of Western and home-invasion genres to that point, to pass muster. Nothing special, mind you. It just knows its limitations and is careful enough to work within them. It takes place in the Old West. whee Beth (Bernadette) and her twin children, Brian and Irene (Betsy) now live with her new husband, Robert (Krause). The trio appear to have escaped an abusive relationship, and it’s not long after a railroad surveyor pays a visit, before Irene is cheerfully telling him, she’s going to go back and kill her father some day.

Turns out she doesn’t have to wait that long to carve some notches on her gun-belt. Because the “surveyor” is actually the advance scout for a gang of outlaws. for Robert wasn’t exactly an angel in his previous life either. He was part of a gang led by Ezekiel (Scurlock) and absconded with their loot. This bit of treachery has finally caught up with him, an his old associates are now ready to make him cough up the location of what they consider their rightful, if ill-gotten gains. They arrive one night, taking the family hostage in an effort to use them against Robert. However, they’ve forgotten about Beth, who has clearly had enough of this male nonsense, and in particular. Irene, who embraces wholeheartedly the opportunity to get some practice in for her future paternal reunion.

As mentioned, we do have to take a detour before the distaff side of the family take centre-stage. Robert and Brian are more or less useless. The former’s efforts to negotiate with his former pals go about as well as you would expect, and Brian is just no good for anything, especially after getting shot in the leg. This is retaliation for his sister stabbing one of the outlaws in the foot: in hindsight, they would have been much better off shooting Irene, considering she is the one who causes them no end of trouble, the deeper we get into the movie.

Eventually, for different reasons, Robert and Brian are no longer of significance, with first Beth and then Irene, finally getting the chance to show it was a fate mistake to overlook them. It’s a very good example of firearms as an equalizer. In a physical fight, they’d have no chance against men who are clearly much larger and more powerful. However, with a gun in their hand, and a steely resolve to use it in defense of their own survival, then strength is no longer a factor. How things unfold is mostly quite predictable, to be honest, yet is done with a reasonable amount of energy. and helped by performances which all feel like they are on the same page dramatically. All told, the ending justifies the means, I’d say.

Dir: Ehrland Hollingsworth
Star: Betsy Sligh, Jamie Bernadette, Brian Krause, Scot Scurlock

The Blind Spot, by Michael Robertson

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Literary rating: ★★½
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆½

On the surface, Scala City is an idyllic, hi-tech world of prosperity, peace and morality, albeit at the cost of omnipresent surveillance of its residents. But there’s a dirty little secret. The Blind Spot is an area where surveillance is barred, and where the citizens of Scala City go to blow off their sordid steam. Its residents have cybernetically enhanced bodies, something rejected by Scala City, and a zero-tolerance policy for any kind of monitoring. It’s run by Wrench, who has kept his daughter Marcie Hugo under strict control since the death of her mother. However, like all teenagers, the 16-year-old Marcie is seeking to spread her wings, and has been making covert excursions into Scala City, with the aim of moving there some day soon.

The problem is, an escalating series of terrorist attacks have been occurring in the city, which it appears someone is trying to blame on the Blind Spot, in order to trigger a war between them and the city. After one of Marcie’s trips is caught on camera, the heat gets turned up, and she – along with the Blind Spot’s most infamous computer hacker – becomes the only person who can prevent a conflict that could lead to the destruction (at least in a digital sense) of both sides. She believes the perpetrators may have help from inside the Blind Spot, suspecting in particular a close accomplice of Wrench, who also happens to be the father of her best friend.

The world-building here is solid enough. As well as Marcie, events unfold through the sad eyes of Nick, an overweight and largely unloved Scala City resident. He’s addicted to the Wellbeing App, which records only the positive things people say about each other, sharing it with them. This is…scarily plausible, to be honest, though the split focus is a little unwieldy. No connection between this pair of story lines is established until about two-thirds of the way through the book, although they work well enough on their own terms. The idea of a city with a Jekyll and Hyde personality is also well-executed.

A bigger problem, for me, was the sudden reticence on Marcie’s end. Initially, we experience things through her eyes, knowing everything she knows. Then, at a certain point, we get cut out of the loop, from a narrative point of view, as she and her hacker pal begin their plot to track down and expose the real terrorists. We’re left on the outside, not knowing what’s going on – and when we do find out, there naturally being a grand reveal, it’s not very satisfying. It relies too much on the “all-powerful hacker” trope, and the identity of the traitor in their midst is also unconvincing. The story ends up being a swing and a miss, though with the book being free on Amazon, I probably can’t complain. Though it’d have to be at the same price point to get me to go any further into the series.

Author: Michael Robertson
Publisher: Self-published, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book 1 of 6 in the Neon Horizon series.

The Wrath of Becky

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★★½
“Did we learn nothing from John Wick?”

Don’t mess with someone else’s dog. This is a good rule of thumb in most cases, but especially so when the owner is an unhinged teenage psychopath, with the both the talent and desire to inflict carnage in retribution. The last time we saw Becky (Wilson), she had disposed of a gang of neo-Nazis who had invaded her house in search of a key, and killed her father in the process. Now, a couple of years later, she is a waitress in a diner, and renting a room from Elena (Burse). Three more individuals with, um, alternative political opinions enter the diner. This is not going to end well.

In response to their rude behaviour, she pours coffee on the crotch of their leader. The response leaves Elena dead and, worse, they kidnap Becky’s dog. She tracks them to the home of their group’s leader, Darryl (Scott). You know that messy mayhem is going to follow, and will not be disappointed. The film does address the gloomy murkiness which plagued the first one, allowing its gory murders to unfold in the full light of the sun. However, in most ways it falls short of its predecessor: the sequel has seen a new writer-director pair come on board, and the results very much have an air of “second verse, same as the first – just not as good” air to them.

The differences are on both sides. Becky is harder to empathize with, being little more than a teenage psychopath now. Sure, she had issues in the original movie. Yet the trauma she went through meant her reactions were understandable. Here, from the outset she seems a bit of a dick, callously treating foster parents for her own benefit. On the villainous side, it’s a mixed bag. The film repeats the trick from the first film of putting an unexpected actor in the role of the lead villain (there Kevin James) and Scott does well. But the frequent idiocy of his underlings is too convenient. They’re not a credible threat, and Darryl’s failure to secure Becky at a key moment undoes much of the good work that has gone before.

However, don’t take the above criticism as an indication there’s no fun to be had here. You just need to be aware this is a considerably more mean-spirited affair, and it’s probably only the kills that will stick around in your mind. I did laugh out loud more than once, for example when one of the gang reveals his son’s name to Becky, sealing his own fate [though again: why not just lie, dude? It isn’t hard…] The ending sees the CIA recruit Becky, because they are now apparently responsible for domestic counter-terrorism. Wait, what? Oh, well. If they’re going the Nikita route for further sequels, I suspect the authorities have bitten off more than they can chew. Maybe next time Becky can go after Antifa.

Dir: Matt Angel, Suzanne Coote
Star: Lulu Wilson, Seann William Scott, Denise Burse, Jill Larson

Vesper

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★★★½
“Battle Angel Nausicaa”

As the above suggests, I was getting a strong manga influence, in particular from the works of Hayao Miyazaki: it feels like the script could have been something he’d have written on a gloomy Wednesday in January. Feisty teenage heroine? Check? Ecological message? Check. For this takes place after some kind of change in the world, which has left the bulk of the population clinging on to existence by their grubby fingernails, in a world now owned by bizarre flora. Vesper (Chapman) is one such, tending to her paralyzed father (Brake) whose consciousness has been transferred into a drone. She trades with her uncle, Jonas (Marsan), swapping blood for the seeds they need to survive.

Yet there’s also elements of Battle Angel Alita, with a sharp delineation between the haves and the have-nots. The latter live privileged lives in Citadels, served by artificial lifeforms called “jugs”, and as suppliers of the seeds, hold everyone else in their control. One day, a Citadel craft crashes near Vesper’s home, and she rescues Camelia (McEwen) from the wreckage. She promises to take Vesper and her father back to her home. Yet it eventually becomes clear that Camelia is not being 100% honest about her own situation either. On the other hand, she is potentially the key to liberating everyone from under the thumb of the Citadels, and ending their monopoly on the resources necessary for survival. It’s not something the rulers will give up easily, however.

This is rather ponderous in its progress, running close to two hours, and is clearly content to take its time getting to any of its points. If you’re willing to accept that, there’s a lot to appreciate here, not least some great visual style and world-building. This has to be one of the most fully convincing post-apocalyptic landscapes I’ve seen, a remarkable achievement considering its budget was a mere five million Euros. Vesper is a heroine right out of the Nausicaa playbook: someone who is smart and brave, rather than physically strong, devoted to her family, and who has an inherent affinity for the natural world. Her mother left the family, under circumstances best described as murky, and Camelia is a surrogate, to some extent.

It does feel as if the makers fell in love with their creation a little more than I did, and wanted to wallow in the imagination, at the expense of developing the plot. No-one seems in a particular hurry here, and for every scene which moves the story forward, there’s another that seems to exist purely as a visual showcase. I think it might work better at 90 minutes than 120 – or alternatively, expanded beyond the confines of a feature film. This is the kind of thing I could certainly imagine HBO developing into a series. The ending came close to toppling into “Eh?” territory, before a final shot where it made sense, and wrapped things up on easily the most optimistic note we’d heard. Miyazaki would likely approve.

Dir: Kristina Buozyte, Bruno Samper
Star: Raffiella Chapman, Rosy McEwen, Eddie Marsan, Richard Brake

Warchild: Pawn, by Ernie Lindsey

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Literary rating: ★★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆☆☆

This dystopian future takes place after the United States of America is no longer united, having fragmented into a group of disparate regions that exist in an uneasy piece with each other. The heroine is 14-year-old Caroline, who lives in a remote part of the Appalachians, her town loosely affiliated to the People’s Republic of Virginia. She’s a scout, and one day encounters forces from the Democratic Alliance. The population of her village who escape, head towards the state capital of Warrenville, pursued by the invading army. On the way, Caroline begins to come into startling abilities which were literally injected into her as a small child.

The collapse of the US is a concept which seems considerably more relevant now, than when the book originally came out in 2014; I was surprised to discover that it takes place several centuries into the future, rather than… oh, next Tuesday. This is the element which I think I found most interesting. While the story is a real page-turner, and I enjoyed it at the time, it’s one where I found myself stumbling into plot-holes when it came to writing the review. For instance, if you can get superpowers by syringe, why are there less than a handful of people so enhanced? I’d have expected the authorities to be all over that kind of thing, in particular the military. Instead, it seems almost to be like a post-apocalyptic version of winning the lottery.

Similarly, the way in which Caroline leads the refugees to Warrenville would have made more sense if she’d come into her powers first. That would plausibly help turn the teenager into a Joan of Arc-like figure. Instead, it seems rather contrived the way adults – even the fiercely independent and survivalist Republicons – defer to her, for no particular reason beyond Caroline being the heroine of the book. However, if you can get past that (and again, I didn’t really think about them while I was reading it), then you should be able to enjoy a fast-paced surge of a book, which tends to have something going on, more often than not.

Lindsey certainly doesn’t pull his punches. On more than one occasion a character meets an unexpected and brutal end, and this gives a sense of danger for the rest of them. Well, except Caroline, of course, who is fully engulfed in Heroine Armour, naturally. Still, there is a genuine character arc here, as her relatively pastoral existence is turned completely upside down, and she’s forced into maturity over the course of just a few days, after losing everything she knows. I would be tempted to read the next two volumes, just to see where the story goes: for instance, I’m curious about what happened to Crockett’s gang of Republicons, who just wandered off in the middle of the story. Though I’d need more of a “special offer” for the omnibus edition than the 49-cent saving it provides over buying parts two and three separately!

Author: Ernie Lindsey
Publisher: JCL Publishing, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book 1 of 3 in the Warchild series.

My Day

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★★½
“Where the streets have no name.”

Sixteen-year-old Ally (Smith) is living her life very much on the fringes of society. Coming from a broken home, she is now homeless on the streets of London, relying on the dubious charity of questionable friends. Though Ally does have her limits as to what she’s prepared to do, she has no issue with occasional bits of work, delivering drugs for dodgy couple Carol and Gary. It’s this that gets her into trouble: a job goes wrong, after the customer tries to rape her, and Ally flees – without either the drugs or the money. Carol and Gary are bad enough. Yet even they live in mortal fear of their boss, Eastern European gangster Ilyas (Adomaitis). He wants his merch back – and Ally, as interest, for sale to his sex trafficking friends.

Ally ends up in Ilyas’s clutches, increasingly strung out on heroin. Luckily, help to escape comes from a couple of unexpected sources. First is Carol and Gary’s son Kevin (Jackson), who has bigger plans outside the estate on which he currently lives. Then there’s old age pensioner Frank (Kinsey – whom I remember from close to fifty years ago, playing a soldier on classic Brit-com, It Ain’t Half Hot Mum!), who has befriended Ally for his own reasons, is concerned by her sudden absence, and sets out to track her down. Are either of them prepared to cope with someone as morally bankrupt and brutally violent as Ilyas?

This is likely a fringe entry here, considering Ally spends much of the time lying on a squalid mattress, off her head. Yet there are likely just enough moments to qualify, and she has absolutely no aversion to using violence herself when necessary – beyond what any of her male allies can deliver. Although Ally is not a particularly likeable character, there is still enough of a moral code that I did find myself eventually warming to her. The problems here are more in the other cast members, who largely appear to be single-note descriptions, e.g. “kindly old codger,” with the actors not apparently given enough information to flesh them out by first-time feature director Miiro.

I did appreciate a slightly different view of London from the one often shown. Not least, it unfolds on the Western edge of the city, rather than the inevitable go-to when film-makers want to show deprivation, the East End (with an occasional foray Sarf of the river Thames!). Not that it looks notably different: still, it’s the thought that counts. The script somehow manages to end up both a bit too neat, and simultaneously leaving too many loose ends, which may be a result of this being an expanded version of the director’s earlier short. To be honest, it feels fractionally too earnest, in a Ken Loach kind of way, even if depicting a world where everyone is, to some extent, embedded in criminal culture. I suspect that was not the intended point, however…

Dir: Ibrahim Miiro
Star: Hannah Laresa Smith, Mike Kinsey, Karl Jackson, Gediminas Adomaitis